


summer wars

by mysoulrunswithwolves



Series: a world without [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artists, Domestic Fluff, Jihoon x Soonyoung if you squint really hard, M/M, Sexual Content, one (1) very ugly couch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-13 23:16:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14758157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysoulrunswithwolves/pseuds/mysoulrunswithwolves
Summary: It’s not like Minghao had been trying to get rid of the puke-green, paisley print couch Mingyu had found abandoned on the curb in the whole six months they’d lived in Malta, except that’s exactly what he’d been doing.





	summer wars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daeum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daeum/gifts), [hanrenx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanrenx/gifts).



> Unbeta'd and ridiculous so basically I'm back on my gyuhao bullshit.

“Gyu, we need to talk about something.”

Mingyu stiffened, his paintbrush smearing a line of vermillion across the canvas he was working on. With a sigh he grabbed the scraper to get the worst of it before it set and then turned to Mingaho. “About?”

Minghao raised a single eyebrow and glanced at the couch in one corner of their flat. Besides the bed, it was the only seating in their flat and Mingyu knew immediately what this was about.

“It has to go,” Minghao said from where he was sat on the floor, laptop open as he edited through some photos.

“Where else will we sit?” Mingyu asked patiently, resuming painting. “Besides, I like the couch.”

Minghao huffed, and Mingyu didn’t need to turn around to know that Minghao was scowling at him. “It’s a fucking ugly couch, Gyu.”

“Find us another couch that’s free and we’ll talk,” Mingyu said, adamant. He turned to give Minghao a raised eyebrow of his own, ignoring Minghao’s pout. “We need to make rent, and that couch didn’t cost anything.”

“Fine,” Minghao grumbled, and silence descended once again as they both returned to their art.

***

It’s not like Minghao had been trying to get rid of the puke-green, paisley print couch Mingyu had found abandoned on the curb in the whole six months they’d lived in Malta, except that’s exactly what he’d been doing.

It was the ugliest thing Minghao had ever seen—it offended every single one of his senses—and he fucking hated it.

But Mingyu loved the dreadful thing. Said it had _character_ and used words like _unique_ and _vintage_ whenever he was talking about it to their friends and he refused to accept that Minghao had never, and would never, love that couch.

He didn’t even _like_ it. Not a bit.

***

When Mingyu finally convinced Jihoon to facetime him for the first time in a month he was dying for someone to talk to, and no amount of shitty wi-fi was going to stop him.

“How’s London?” he asked, before Jihoon could open his mouth. “How is the composing going? How’s Soonyoung?” He settled further into the couch and smiled at the adorably grumpy face of Jihoon.

“City’s the same, composing is fine, and you already text him four times a day stop fishing for information,” Jihoon responded in one breath. He squinted at the screen. “What are you sitting on?”

Mingyu sits up straighter in surprise. “Have I not shown you the couch I found yet?”

 _“…Found?”_ Jihoon gave him a long-suffering expression he was all too familiar with. “Explain.”

Mingyu shrugged. “I found it up for grabs and look at how cool it is!” He shifted the camera to give Jihoon a good look at the paisley pattern. “It’s so awesome, but Minghao hates it.”

Jihoon snorted. “It looks exactly like something he would hate.”

“But it’s so _unique,”_ Mingyu groaned. “I don’t understand why he doesn’t like it. You’d think the couch like, killed his cat or something with the way he looks at it sometimes. The other day? We were arguing about it because he wants to dump it but I can’t do that,” he paused for air, ignoring the way Jihoon’s eyebrows were slowly creeping higher on his forehead, “and he told me if I loved it so much I could sleep there instead of with him.”

Jihoon snorted. “Did you apologize?”

“No, I slept on the couch for a week before Minghao let me back in bed.” Mingyu ran a hand through his hair, glad Minghao was out working on the campaign that brought them to Malta in the first place. “He’s got such a great sense of aesthetic, you’d think he’d be able to appreciate multiple forms of artistic beauty in upholstery, but _no.”_

Mingyu kept ranting, dumping all his pent-up frustration on Jihoon—who was an excellent listener—and realizing that the small but heated arguments that kept happening because of this couch were really starting to wear on him. “He’s just so _stubborn,”_ he whined to Jihoon, receiving a sympathetic nod at that statement. “I think I’m going to have to give up the couch because I know he’s not going to budge but I don’t want to.”

Jihoon cleared his throat. “So, what you're saying is that in your disgustingly happy, domestic relationship, the only point of contention…is a couch.”

“Yeah but—”

“Unbelievable.”

Mingyu pouted at his phone, making sure Jihoon could see it. “Hyung, you don't understand—”

“You guys moved across half the fucking globe for each other. I’m not an expert but I think your relationship will survive this.” Jihoon rolled his eyes. “We’re done here. I’m hanging up. Soonyoung’s here and says hi.”

 _“But_ — _”_

Jihoon clicked out of their call and Mingyu was left staring at the home screen of his phone, feeling the Jihoon Effect, or, as Minghao called it, “that rug-pulled-out-from-under-you feeling.”

Personally, Mingyu just felt dumb.

***

Mingyu was sitting on the Ugly Couch in his sweats and glasses, scrolling through something on his phone when Minghao got home from his shoot.

“Hey babe,” Mingyu called, not bothering to look up from his phone. “How was your day.”

Minghao sighed. “It was fine.” He squinted when all Mingyu did was hum in response because that wouldn’t do.

He wasn’t going to be ignored for a phone, and _definitely_ not for a couch. Stepping out of his shoes and shedding his coat, Minghao padded across their flat and knelt between Mingyu’s spread legs. He didn’t give any warning, didn’t make a sound, simply reached out and palmed Mingyu through his sweats.

Mingyu glanced at him over the top of his phone, smiling faintly, before ignoring him again.

Minghao was _offended,_ to say the least.

But he didn’t say anything. Instead, he slowly started teasing Mingyu to hardness, alternating between gentle brushes against his cock and strong, sure strokes as he rubbed Mingyu. He was going to _make_ Mingyu pay attention to him.

He got a small gasp out of Mingyu when he pulled him out of his sweats and licked him from base to tip, sucking lightly before swallowing him down deeper. The factor of the Ugly Couch in their relationship had added a subtle undercurrent of tension to everything they did. Enough tension, at least, that it made this the most competitive blow job Minghao had ever given.

Every sound he coaxed out of Mingyu was a point for him, every low moan a small victory, and Minghao would rather die than admit that the challenge of pulling Mingyu’s attention away from his phone wasn’t incredibly arousing.

He always had been too competitive.

Minghao glanced up at Mingyu’s face. He was still looking at his phone, but his eyes were glazed and unfocused, his free hand threading through the too-long strands of Minghao’s hair and pulling slightly, just the way Minghao liked. It was only through years of keeping a tight reign on his reactions that he managed not to moan like a teenager.

He pulled off slightly to swirl his tongue around the head of Mingyu’s cock, pressing his tongue to the slit. He heard the sound of Mingyu’s head hitting the back of the couch, his body going limp under Minghao as he ran his hands up Mingyu’s thighs to his hips.

He gently lifted Mingyu’s phone from his limp grip with one hand while his other hand slid under Mingyu’s shirt to tease at one of his nipples. He only had to swallow Mingyu’s cock down twice more before Mingyu was coming down his throat with a breathy whine.

“I love you, Hao,” Mingyu said, once he’d caught his breath and his eyes had re-focused.

Minghao wiped at the corners of his mouth, standing up to lean over Mingyu’s still limp figure on the couch.

“I still hate this Ugly Couch,” Minghao whispered into Mingyu’s ear, before walking away, Mingyu’s defeated groan following after him.

***

They’ve reached a truce, of sorts.

Mingyu no longer tried to convince Minghao that the couch was an underappreciated work of art, and Minghao only bashed the couch when he was tired.

Mingyu didn’t feel it was worth mentioning to him that he was _always_ tired, and just learned to live with Minghao’s constant disdain of the couch.

“Hey babe, where’s my phone?” he would ask, and Minghao would reply with, “On the Ugly Couch,” regardless of whether or not it was actually on the couch.

Whenever Minghao mentioned that the campaign that brought them to Malta was going to end soon, and they’d need to decide where they were going to go next, he made it clear that the couch was not going to be moving with them.

No amount of pouting from Mingyu, no amount of slow morning sex (one of Minghao’s few weaknesses), could convince Minghao that the couch was worth keeping.

“Hao,” he asked one day late August, “will you pass me the white paint?” He didn’t look away from his canvas and the painstaking detail he was adding to the roofs in this painting, but he held out his free hand for the tube of paint he knew Minghao would hand him.

“Will you let me get rid of the Ugly Couch?”

Mingyu sighed. “It’s not that bad, Hao.”

“I fucking hate it, Gyu.” The paint tube was placed gently in his outstretched hand and a gentle kiss was placed at the corner of his jaw, softening Minghao’s words.

Mingyu set down his brush and gathered Minghao up in his arms before he could slip away. He struggled halfheartedly against him up until Mingyu kissed him deeply and thoroughly, well enough that Minghao forgot all about how much he hated the couch long enough for Mingyu to fuck him against it, fast and hard, until they were lying panting and sticky against the cushions.

***

Minghao slid his arms around Mingyu’s neck from behind, leaving a lingering kiss to the back of his neck. “What’re you doing?” he asked.

Mingyu tried not to feel guilty. There was absolutely _nothing_ wrong with checking. “I’m checking international shipping costs for large items.” He refused to let Minghao bully him into guilt.

He felt a little guilty.

But not much.

He could feel inghao’s sigh of exasperation against his neck. “I’m just curious!” Mingyu said defensively.

“Gyu…we literally cannot reasonably afford to ship this ugly-ass couch.”

It was Mingyu’s turn to sigh. “Just say you hate it and go.”

“I hate it,” Minghao whispered into Mingyu’s ear, leaving a teasing nip to his earlobe before unwinding his arms from Mingyu’s neck and walking away.

Mingyu took another look at the cost, sighed, and closed out of the tab.

It _was_ really expensive.

***

Minghao’s biggest weakness in this life was Mingyu’s pout.

He’d never told Mingyu this, of course—because nobody should ever have that kind of power—but that didn’t change the fact that he melted inside whenever Mingyu’s lower lip started to so much as wobble out of place.

Mingyu was breathing slowly next to him, tucked around Minghao’s body in bed like it wasn’t nearly thirty degrees already and it was barely ten in the morning. Mingyu took a deep breath, the kind that meant he was about to say something, and rubbed his palm against the flat of Minghao’s stomach.

“Hey Hao, I’ve been thinking, and after Malta—”

“If you let me throw out the couch you can decide where we go next,” Minghao said, before Mingyu could finish his thought. He didn’t actually care where they went next—he was going to let Mingyu choose either way—he just wanted to see if Mingyu would crack.

He rolled around to face Mingyu.

Mingyu blinked at him slowly. “…But we’re leaving anyway.”

Minghao smiled sweetly, making Mingyu instantly nervous. “We still have a month here, and if I see that couch one more time I might just leave you here.”

“Haooooo.” Mingyu’s pout was a level of deadly that could bring nations to their knees.

“Neither you nor it are cute right now,” Minghao said, fruitlessly trying to hold back a smile at Mingyu’s ridiculous pout while his insides turned to sun-melted taffy. 

Mingyu sighed when it became apparent that despite Minghao’s soft smile he wasn’t going to say anything else. “Okay,” he said quietly, more than a little sad. “I’ll get rid of it tomorrow.”

Minghao _hated_ the couch. More than anything. It offended every single one of his senses. But dammit if he didn’t feel terrible and guilty over the obvious sadness on Mingyu’s face.

“No, it’s fine,” Minghao rushed to say, reaching out and stroking Mingyu’s jaw. “I think it'll grow on me.”

Mingyu’s pout didn’t lift, but he looked slightly more hopeful. “Babe it’s been four months. You’ve sat on it a total of two times, and one of those times was to fuck me.” His expression suddenly morphed from pouting to teasing.

“I take it back,” Minghao said, voice flat. “Get rid of it.”

Mingyu’s expression slipped from his teasing smile, growing serious. “Are you really serious? I will get rid of the couch for you, babe.”

Minghao huffed out an exasperated laugh because really, he didn’t deserve Mingyu. “I’m not going to make you get rid of the couch, love. You obviously love it almost as much as you love me and puppies and I could never take that away from you.” He wrapped his arms around Mingyu’s waist and pulled him close to kiss him softly.

“You still hate it though,” Mingyu said against his lips, after a long moment of getting lost in each other.

Minghao giggled between the kisses Mingyu kept pressing to his mouth. “I hate it so much, but I love you more.”

Mingyu deepened the kiss, swallowing Minghao’s rare verbalization of his feelings down and answering with the deep, passionate attention Minghao loved. “Thank you, baby,” he said after a long moment.

Minghao rolled his eyes. “Where else will we sit, you giant doofus.”

Mingyu giggled and pressed a last kiss to his lips, smiling the whole time.

 

**Author's Note:**

> It's honestly Han and Cinny's fault that I'm writing these one-shots they did so much of the dialogue for these boys. I'm just the schmuck who writes it out and puts it in the setting.
> 
> Cinny did a fanart which you can find [here.](https://twitter.com/cinbin_/status/1000265054653120512) 
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](https://mysoulrunswithwolves.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/_xKikix)


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